


another breath and i'm up another level.

by milominderbinder



Series: thirty days of skam fic [10]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Living Together, M/M, Marijuana, Shotgunning, isak is very turned on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 14:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11163630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milominderbinder/pseuds/milominderbinder
Summary: They pass the joint back and forth for a little while, mostly quiet, until they've both had enough to start feeling a little buzzed.  It's a cool summer evening, not cold but with a gentle breeze washing over them through the open doors, and they have nowhere to be. Nothing is urgent, and right in that moment, they can both just completely chill.Then Even looks up and says, “Wanna shotgun?”Isak’s mouth goes dry.





	another breath and i'm up another level.

**Author's Note:**

> some people were disappointed my other even-and-isak smoking weed fic didn't end up with shotgunning, soooo, here's this instead ;) it contains more emotions than technically just puffing smoke into someone's mouth really needs, but this is even and isak like lbr here

The thing is, Even has a lot of stuff, but mostly, it’s stuff he doesn’t care about. Piles of old books and identical-looking hoodies and DVDs that are irrelevant now they have a Netflix account; just a lot of clutter that fills up their little flat, and makes it seem endearingly chaotic, like Eve himself.  But the longer they live together, the more Isak is learning about the few of Even’s many possessions that Even actually considers _special_.

Among those is a silver Zippo lighter that used to belong to his grandfather.

Apparently, when Even’s grandfather died, he left the lighter to Even’s dad; it's sort of a father-son heirloom. But Even’s dad doesn't smoke, and he never actually cared about the lighter much -- so despite the fact that he doesn't technically know Even smokes either, and despite the fact that Even never met the grandfather it used to belong to, when he was a teenager, he'd asked if he could have it.

“I said, uh, something completely dumb like, ‘I wanna use it to light candles and incense’ I think _,”_ Even tells Isak one evening, grinning to himself as they sit in the doorway of their tiny balcony, Even holding a joint in one hand and the lighter in the other. “But dad didn't care at all. He was just like, ‘oh, sure, you do burn a lot of scented candles’ or something.”

Isak laughs along with him. Even’s dad is lovely, but a bit oblivious -- a bit like Even, in the cutest way. Isak secretly suspects that Even doesn't care the lighter is an heirloom at all, just that it makes him seem cool to have a vintage Zippo in the pocket of his denim jacket that he can pull out at any moment. That's okay. Isak loves his pretentious hipster of a boyfriend.

Even’s long fingers flip the Zippo open and closed a few times, fiddling with it while he keeps chucking to himself. He finally goes to light the joint, and Isak sits back against the doorframe, content just to watch him for a while.

Sitting like this reminds him of the first time they hit high together, in Even’s room at his parents’ place all those months ago. The only difference is they're sat on the floor rather than the windowsill, and beside are open glass doors instead of an open window, leading out to their tiny little balcony.  And this is _their_ place, not some fragile environment that Isak has just been invited into and is terrified to ever leave.

Okay. Maybe there's actually quite a lot of differences now. But as he leans his head back against the wall and watches Even take one long pull off the joint, one thing that certainly hasn't changed is the frantic whirlwind of affection racing through Isak’s whole body. 

They pass the joint back and forth for a little while, mostly quiet, until they've both had enough to start feeling a little buzzed.  It's a cool summer evening, not cold but with a gentle breeze washing over them through the open doors, and they have nowhere to be. Nothing is urgent, and right in that moment, they can both just completely chill.

Then Even looks up and says, “Wanna shotgun?”

Isak’s mouth goes dry.

Looking like this, painted in the soft light of dusk and their crappy yellow lamp, eyes dark and a slow smile tugging at his lips, wearing one of Isak’s old t-shirts that's stretched out around the collar so it shows off his stark collarbones, Even is just about the hottest thing Isak has ever seen. And fuck yes does he wanna shotgun. It's something they've only done a few times; Even doesn't smoke so regularly anymore, and when he does, it's mostly at parties with the guys.  They can't shotgun then, or any other time there are other people around, because it always leaves Isak the same way -- heady and breathless, so hot he thinks he might have a fever, and feeling higher than he would if he smoked five whole joints by himself.

But, now, they're alone in _their_ flat, nothing stopping them from doing whatever the hell they want.

Isak pushes off from where he's leaning against the doorframe and falls into Even’s space instead, shuffling forwards until their crossed knees bump together. He's already feeling a little dizzy as he presses a dry kiss to Even’s lips.

The silver Zippo falls to the floor next to them as Even decides he'd rather tangle his fingers in Isak’s hair instead. He doesn't let the kiss go for for long though, as the joint still smoulders in his other hand.

Suddenly, Even turns, his back facing the open doors. Isak is confused, but he turns as well, so they're still sat opposite each other. 

And then Even reaches out, and oh-so-slowly pushes Isak down to the floor.

Isak goes easily, falling onto his back on their floorboards, staring up at Even with trusting eyes.  Even sits between Isak’s bent knees for a second, and takes a long, slow drag off the joint. Then he leans over and crawls up Isak’s body, hovering over him as one hand comes up to cup the side of Isak’s face. He's lying between Isak’s spread legs, and it's like the room goes black, and the entire universe is just contained in the space between their bodies. They both have at least two layers of clothes on, and the flooboards Isak is splayed across aren't exactly comfortable, but Even has fucked him in this exact position so many times that heat is flushing through Isak’s whole body.

Then Even uses his thumb to guide Isak’s mouth open, and leans down. Their lips only brush together, barely touching at all, but Isak still feels it like an electric shock. His body jolts, and then all of a sudden, Even is breathing out a cloud of smoke right into Isak’s open mouth.

Isak feels completely enveloped -- in the smoke, in his own lightheadedness, in Even’s arms bracketing either side of his head and blocking out the world. He breathes in deep, trying to catch every last bit of smoke. He can't help but hitch one of his knees over Even’s hip as he holds in the breath for a moment, and then he latched his fingers around the back of Even’s neck, tugging himself out a bit so he can breath the smoke back out in a hot huff against the side of Even’s face.

Even shuts his eyes for a moment, a lip-biting grin spreading across his face. “For fuck’s sake, Isak, you're so hot.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Isak whislets, dragging Even down and crushing their lips together -- desperate, aching, dizzy. Possibly more high on Even than the weed.

On the floor next to them, the joint lies forgotten, burning down to embers next to Even’s silver lighter. Jonas would be annoyed at them for wasting weed, but Isak -- Isak just doesn't care at _all_.  

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed it!! pls let me know what you thought ♥️
> 
> also on tumblr [here!](http://milominderbindered.tumblr.com/post/161672285791/thirty-days-of-skam-fic-day-ten-aka-the)


End file.
